


Grow upon the Earth

by TintagelCastle



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant (Ish), Confessions, He'll kick his own ass, He'll kick your neighbour's ass, Hermann's a big sad gay baby, Horrendous first dates, M/M, Mentions of Ableism, Miscommunication A-Go-Go, Mutual Stupidity, Newt will kick your ass, Not Quite a Slow Burn, Pining, Pre-Movie: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018), War is hell, author is playing fast and loose with canon but STILL-, gratuitous mentions of Stephen King, more a medium simmering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 07:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14636901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TintagelCastle/pseuds/TintagelCastle
Summary: “Get out.” Newton said lowly, with more venom dripping out of every syllable than Hermann had thought he was ever capable of. His fists were clenched so tightly at his sides that, even from where Hermann stood, he could see them shaking. “I said: Get. The fuck. Out.”The world's falling to pieces around Hermann and Newt wants takeout. Their night only gets worse from there.





	Grow upon the Earth

**Author's Note:**

> I'm dipping my toes into Newmann fic, be gentle with me.
> 
> This was originally going to be a Post-Uprising fic of Hermann getting his stupid-ass husband back but this little idea wouldn't leave me alone. I'll be honest, this is more of a 'Hermann's a big angsty gay' word vomit than anything else.
> 
> Takes place during the first movie but whereabouts it fits is...*wiggles hand vaguely*
> 
> (Title is inspired by Les Friction's song 'String Theory', Les Friction are, like, my main Newmann soundtrack. Their whole entire album is just *mwah*)

Chalk dust settled onto Hermann’s hand for the fifteenth time that afternoon, covering both his fingers and the top of his cane with a fine white powder. He ignored it.

He was also ignoring the old familiar ache that rumbled up and down his leg, choosing to instead focus on the numbers and calculations he’d been working on all day. If tuning the entire world out was an artform, Hermann was practically a master.

Well, he _could_ be, if his lab partner wasn’t violating every single health code in the PPDC on the other side of the room.

Newton was, for lack of a better term, singing. He had his music playing at practically top volume (something Hermann had repeatedly request he turn down, though the requests were getting less and less polite with each passing hour.) and waving his arms about as if he _wasn’t_ holding dangerous and disgustingly slimy Kaiju entrails in the air. Instead of concentrating on dissecting the samples, Newton was waving and jabbing his scalpel in the air as if it were a conductor’s baton, more or less in time to the beat of the song pouring out of the speakers. 

_“-alling Gloriaaaaaaaaaaa!”_ Newton practically wailed, bobbing his head up and down whilst turning on his heel to point dramatically at nothing in particular. He looked ridiculous. _“Gloria! Don’t you think you’re falling? If everybody wants-”_

Hermann rolled his eyes, sighing. As far as he was concerned, he had a choice of two options here; one, to yell at Newton to for _once_ in his life turn the music to a more acceptable volume, or two, vent his anger on his calculations. 

Considering that option one had only resulted in Newton steadily hiring up the volume in what Hermann could only assume was an attempt at psychological warfare, Hermann tried his hand at option number two, angrily scribbling a few more numbers with more venom than they deserved. He half wished Pentecost would wander through. The man’s very presence commanded respect and Hermann would bet anything that if Pentecost told Newton Geiszler to turn the music down and stop acting like a bloody toddler, silence would descend faster than a bullet. 

Hermann glanced at the door, as if he could conjure Stacker Pentecost out of thin air just with the power of his thoughts. No such luck. The door remained resolutely closed and Pentecost-less. Newton remained oblivious, continuing to act out his very own private concert and Hermann wondered, not for the first time, if the PPDC were _sure_ Newton had six PhDs. 

Shaking his head, Hermann went to turn back to his board. As he did so however, something caught his eye and he frowned at it. 

At some point during Newton Geiszler’s one-man whirlwind, a beaker or some such container had fallen. A viscous, dark substance had spread across the floor of Newton’s side of the lab in a small, sinister looking puddle. 

A puddle that Dr Newton _I have six doctorates dude don’t question my genius_ Geiszler had yet to notice. 

A small part of Hermann’s brain crowed with victory. Let the idiot slip, that’d teach him to flout the Health and Safety rules of the lab. Plus, witnessing such an event would certainly brighten Hermann’s day.  
Except, no it wouldn’t. No, what it would do to Hermann’s day would ruin it. Hermann’s day would be ruined because he would have to help pick up his lab partner’s brains from where he’d gone and splattered them all over the floor. He waited for Newton to turn around and notice it, but Newton was determined to ignore the world around him apparently, because he would _not. Stop. Singing._

_“But you really don’t remember-”_

“Dr Geiszler-” Hermann tried. 

_“Was it something that they saaaaaid-”_

_“Dr Geiszler!”_

_“All the voices in your heeeeeeeead-“_

He was dangerously close to the puddle now. Hermann threw his arm out, albeit ineffectually. “NEWTON!” 

_“Calling Gloriaaa-_ WHAT, Hermann?!” 

“Be careful!” Hermann snapped, waving his hand to indicate the problem, chalk dust falling from his sleeve. Newton blinked at him in confusion before glancing at his feet. Hermann saw his eyes widen behind his glasses when they landed on the spill. 

“Aw, shit.” Newton said hurriedly, setting the samples he was holding back on the desk with a damp squelch and slamming the music off before kneeling down to clean up. “Thanks man, that would have been embarrassing.” 

“It would have been dangerous.” Hermann corrected, finally turning back to his board of numbers, trying to find the thread of equations that he had been thinking on. His leg groaned in protest at his position. He ignored it. 

“I’d hardly call a little tumble _dangerous_ ” He heard Newton protest from somewhere behind him. 

Hermann knew he should let it slide, to ignore whatever Newton had to say about his own perceived invulnerability and focus on his work. But he’d never been able to resist proving Newton Geiszler wrong. 

Without looking at the man, Hermann began to write more calculations on his board, the chalk squeaking as he did so. “You could have hit your head. You could have landed badly and broken or sprained any number of body parts. You could have come into contact with toxic substances, like that Kaiju Blue you keep back there. You could have contaminated the samples you were working on and render them useless. There are many other probable ways it could have been dangerous.” 

“Yeah yeah but, as much as I know you would _love_ to see the back of me, it didn’t.” 

Hermann sniffed haughtily. “It _could_ have done, Dr Geiszler. Honestly if you’d pay a little more attention to your surroundings, this wouldn’t happen.” 

“Dude, nothing _did_ happen!” 

“Because I stopped you from making an absolute fool of yourself.” 

Newton bristled and angrily pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Hey! I said thanks!” 

Hermann scoffed. “Barely.” 

“Oh I’m sorry, were you expecting me to leap into your arms and be all-” He put the back of his hand to his forehead and made a pretence of swooning, continuing in an over the top, high pitched voice, _“Oh…Hermann! You amazingly heroic hunk of a grandad, take me in thy tweed wrapped arms and let us pilot a Jaeger into the sunset!”_

Hermann’s hand clenched around the top of his cane but still didn’t dignify Newton’s antics by turning around. If anything, he endeavoured to concentrate on his work even harder, trying desperately to ignore the angry flush threatening to flood his face. “Don’t be ridiculous Geiszler.” 

“Wooow, not even bothering with the ‘doctor’ now are ya?” 

Hermann wrote a number seven with such annoyance that the chalk threatened to snap under his fingers. The squeaking was even louder with the Hermann’s frosty silence. 

“Dude,” Newton huffed, “Can you _not_ do that with the chalk? Sets my teeth on edge.” 

Hermann glanced at him over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. 

“Oh, I do apologise.” Hermann said loftily, lifting his chalk, “Is it annoying if I do this?”

He dragged the chalk slowly down the blackboard, never once breaking eye contact with Newton and refusing to grimace when the high, grating noise slid into his own ears with all the grace of a rusty needle piercing his brain. The sound filled the whole lab and lasted for a good thirty seconds before Newton apparently decided to give their verbal sparring match up as a bad job by shaking his head and moving away. Hermann may have been imaging it, but he could have sworn he saw the ghost of an approving grin on Newton’s face.

Once Newton had moved to his side of the lab and resumed his work, Hermann finally allowed himself to tune the world out again, a little reassured that Newton wouldn’t brain himself on anything stupid.

It took him longer than he’d like to admit that it was well over two hours before he noticed that the music never came back on. 

_**_

When the latest Kaiju rose out of the deep, crawling and hungry for destruction, Hermann didn’t leave the lab for thirty-one hours. 

The Kaiju, later christened Polemos, decimated the Peruvian city of Trujillo, finally taken down by two young Jaeger pilots whose names nobody bothered to tell Hermann. They’d slain the beast at the cost of their failing power after fighting so long, and they went down into the dark waters of the ocean with it. 

Two pilots lost their lives and Hermann never heard their names. 

Reports flooded in around him. Marshal Pentecost may have marched in and barked some order at him but it all became one big, chaotic blur of numbers and calculations and death. Jaeger pilots scrambled into their machines to lend their aid whilst Hermann could do nothing save rattle off numbers and empty equations like they meant anything, like they _mattered_ \- 

The Kaiju went down and humanity tallied their losses. Two Jaeger pilots. Three thousand civilians. 

Herc Hansen had been there at some point, clapping a battle roughened hand on Hermann’s shoulder and had attempted comfort with a gruff _“Could have been worse, mate.”_

Thirty-one hours. 

Three thousand people. 

There was no _way_ the whole mess could have been worse. 

Hermann sat there, staring at his work as if whatever mistake he’d made would magically leap out at him through the chalk and the papers. He must have gone wrong somewhere, overlooked some vital variable or miscounted something. His mistake had cost three thousand lives, he _had_ to find it and stamp it out- 

“Herms?” 

Hermann didn’t jump, he did _not_. He glanced from his board to see Newton stood a few feet behind him, two cardboard cups held in his hands. 

“Newt- Dr Geiszler,” Hermann said, voice a little hoarse after so many hours of urgent shouting and panicked conversations, “Is..is everything alright? Did the Marshal ask for me? I-I haven’t figured out these problems yet-” 

“You need to stop doing this to yourself.” Newton interrupted, shoving one of the cups into Hermann’s hands. 

Hermann blinked. “I beg your pardon?” 

“This.” Newton repeated, waving a hand distractedly at the numbers on the board. “You always do this after a bad attack." 

Hermann frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

Newton sighed in his typical ‘I’m a smart man and everything is such a chore to me’ sigh and perched on the desk next to Hermann, not touching, but close enough that Hermann could smell the cheap imported cologne clinging to him. 

“Yes, you do. You’re looking for something to fix, aren’t you? You think this is all your fault.” 

Hermann opened his mouth to argue out of sheer habit. In the low light of the lab, Newton’s tattoos stood out in dizzying technicolour compared to the greys of the lab. They’d only passed each other briefly during the attack, Newton had been relaying information from his research about the Kaiju’s weaknesses and strengths to the people fighting. He looked as tired as Hermann felt, with dark circles under his eyes and his mouth grim. 

Hermann closed his mouth again and Newton shot him a knowing look out of the corner of his eye. 

“I should have seen something.” He said, his voice sounding small and pathetic to his own ears. Newton shrugged. 

“And I should have known that Kaiju had a retractable limb covered in spikes? Pentecost should have, what, have Jaegers stood in every crevice of the ocean? You can’t fight on _shoulds_ and _maybes_ buddy.” 

“It’s my job to predict this sort of thing.” 

Newton snorted a laugh and Hermann gaped at him. Was…was Newton _mocking_ him? Now, of all times?! He stiffened, feeling his hackles rise. Newton must have realised this and flapped a hand at him, shaking his head. 

“Christ’s sake dude chill, I’m not laughing at you. I just meant…” 

“Yes?” Hermann said acidly. 

“I just meant, like, we’re in a war against massive Lovecraftian horrors from another dimension, I think our understanding of numbers and probabilities is allowed to be wrong sometimes.” 

Hermann pursed his mouth and looked downwards at his hands where they were clasped together, resting on the cane between his legs. He wanted to agree with Newton, to concede that perhaps nobody was to blame. They were fighting monsters they had only just begun to understand, and no amount of mathematics could _ever_ have them prepared enough to know what was coming from the Breach. 

Three thousand people died today Newton." 

“I know.” Came the reply. Newton’s voice was as quiet and sincere as Hermann had never heard it before. He looked back up to see Newton blinking hard down at his own knees as if trying not to cry. “God, I know.” 

There didn’t seem be anything left to add. Hermann wondered if he should reach out, maybe place a hand on Newton’s arm or something. The impulse was quickly chased away by the mental image of the man snatching his arm back with some derisive comment, so he did nothing. He turned his eyes back to the board. Newton took a sip of his drink, sighing deeply. They sat there in a silence that was, while maybe not companionable, a little less lonely. 

After what seemed to be an eternity, Newton looked over at him. “Dude, were you in here before the attack?” 

“Hm? Oh, yes I believe so.” 

“You didn’t leave? Like, to take a nap or anything?” 

“A nap.” Said Hermann flatly. 

Newton frowned. “Yeah, it’s where we human beings go and get some shut eye for a little bit. They’re great-” 

“I _know_ what naps are Newton! How could I have left?! That would have looked good wouldn’t it? _‘Oh, I’m sorry Marshal, I know there’s a monster rampaging all over a city but I’m awfully tired.’_ ” 

“There’s no need to be a dick about it Herm! I’m asking when you last slept.” 

Hermann sighed. “A while ago.” 

Newton nodded, as if he expected this answer. “Right. Cool. Go away then.” 

“I’m _sorry_?!” 

Newton rolled his eyes in a way that suggested perhaps Hermann was being a little bit dense, which seemed pretty rich coming from a man who, just two days ago, nearly ate a piece of Kaiju snot thinking it was porridge. (Hermann had practically thrown his chalk at him to stop, almost having an aneurysm on the spot at the sight.) 

“You’re going to go back to your room. You’re going to drink the nice hot drink I just gave you -you’re welcome by the way- and you’re going to go to bed. Then you’re gonna haul your ass to the canteen and eat something …You’re also gonna have a shower, because you smell like dust and old man angst.” 

The last bit was delivered as an afterthought, with a shade of humour. Hermann bit back the retort that he was only five years older than Newton and he wasn’t _old_ thank you very much. However, now that Newton had mentioned it, Hermann noticed how tired he really was. His muscles felt sore and a headache was announcing its presence by quietly throbbing somewhere behind his eyes. Still, he couldn’t allow Newton to sound the more reasonable one here. 

“You’re not the boss of me.” He said, completely without conviction and wincing a little because really, that was all he could come up with? Newton snorted again. 

“Dude, you must be tired because that was lame. Even for you.” 

Hermann wasn’t going to dignify him with a response, instead opting to take a small sip of the drink Newton had brought him. The warmth hit his tongue and he made a small noise of surprise. 

“Chamomile tea?” 

The grin that broke across Newton’s face could only be described as ‘shit-eating’. “Dude, you really think I’d trust you with caffeine at a time like this?!” 

Despite himself, Hermann laughed. “I didn’t think you knew stuff like this even existed, I’ve seen that sludge you drink.” 

Newton gasped loudly and placed a hand over his heart. “Why Doctor Gottlieb, you wound me!” 

_**_

There were times where Hermann truly, absolutely, hated himself to his very core. Lying on his bed in the dark was one of those times. 

Whether it was a smothering, poisonous guilt from the lives lost, a bad night where the pain in his leg became electric in his veins and radiated throughout his entire body or when he’d sometimes go too far with his banter against Newton and said something too sharp, the hatred would come. It crept out like some ink-black monster from under the bed, grab his hand and whisper that it was here now, hush, never fear. 

It had been a few weeks since the latest attack and everything had fallen into its old routine and Hermann had redoubled his efforts to fix his calculations. Countless people, Pentecost included, had told him not to blame himself for the disaster in Peru but there was always a voice in the back of his head telling him to check and check again, to _do better_. 

Newton had demanded a few times that he take a break, grab a coffee and maybe something to eat but every time he suggested something Hermann waved him away, saying he was far too busy at the moment thank you Newton. Newton had never offered anything so often before, Hermann assumed it was some sort of well-meaning, if misguided, attempt to make sure he didn’t accidentally starve himself or some such nonsense. Every time Hermann refused he had to turn quickly so he wouldn’t see the smile sliding off Newton’s face or respond to the nonchalant _“Okay, whatever”_ that would follow. 

God, he was such a coward 

Perhaps, Hermann sometimes thought to himself in private, perhaps in another life he’d take Newton up on the offer and go with him, perhaps they’d talk about something other than the impending apocalypse or whatever inane squabble they invented purely to stave off the relentless horror. They’d made themselves loud and angry to stay sane. He’d seen it between Raleigh and Hansen’s son, between recruits and pilots and engineers. You had to find something meaningless to fight about or you’d collapse under the weight of war. 

Perhaps, in another life they’d grow beyond what they were now. 

It didn’t matter if he disappointed Newton by turning down his offers. Lord knows he’d disappointed the man enough over the years they’d work together. He’d seen it the second they’d met after corresponding via email for so long. Newton’s eyes had met his and had wandered, taking in Hermann’s face, clothes and cane. He’d seen it then, the vague disappointment and the unspoken _Really? That’s it?_

So, Hermann had done what he’d done since boyhood and the bullies had signalled him out, he got defensive. He got nasty. The second he’d opened his mouth he’d seen Newton sink further and further into disappointment with his indifferent, ‘stuffy’ associate. Hermann wondered if Newton was even able to be disappointed further when they ended up working together in the Shatterdome. 

He hated disappointing people. It stung. 

It probably said something about Hermann that, more often than not during these times, his thoughts always ended up somehow revolving around Newton Geiszler. The man was loud, brash and completely the opposite of anything Hermann was or expected, yet there was something undeniably attractive and magnetic about him. It wasn’t just his appearance (something Hermann _had_ noticed thank you very much, he wasn’t completely above noticing things like that) but something in his chaotic storm of a personality. Newton’s enthusiasm for his work always took him from one project to another like white water rapids and one couldn’t help but find themselves swept up in the current. If Hermann was a melody of science, then Newton Geiszler was a veritable symphony of it. 

Hermann wondered what it would be like to be that loud. 

He wondered what would happen if he was brave enough to be someone that didn’t disappoint everyone he met, someone Newton would work with and not be ashamed of. He wondered if the coffee meetings could turn into dates if he was better looking or more approachable. He allowed his mind to wander down those secret paths of speculating what Newton’s tattoos looked like under the shirt or under Hermann’s hand… 

Feeling his hand slide down the front of his underwear Hermann grimaced. He had no right to think of his colleague this way. 

He told himself this even after he finished, trembling and breathless, Newton’s name escaping from his lips in the silent dark, the ink-black monster of self-hatred still clutching his arm. 

__**_ _

“I don’t mean to alarm you-” 

Hermann frowned. “Miss Mori, I hope you realise that is without a doubt the _least_ reassuring thing you could possibly say to me.” 

Mako glared at him and something about the look was so like Pentecost it was downright _eerie_. The Marshal had obviously trained his adoptive daughter well in the way of intimidating faces. He should learn that trick, perhaps Newton would actually do as he asked for once. 

“Don’t you ‘Miss Mori’ me Doctor Gottlieb. I’ve known you since I was eight.” 

“Don’t ‘Doctor Gottlieb’ me, I’ve known you since you were eight.” 

She smiled then, in her knowing way. Hermann readjusted his stance with his cane, swapping his files from one arm to the other, giving her a small smile in return. 

“What’s he done?” 

Mako blinked, a little taken aback. “Who?” 

“When people come up to me with the phrase ‘don’t be alarmed’ or any variation thereof, I assume it has something to with Doctor Geiszler. It saves both time and a considerable time of paperwork. 

Mako tilted her head to the side, amusement flickering over her features. Hermann inwardly steeled himself for whatever bad news was coming about Newton. Explosions, poisoning, flooding the entire floor like he did that one time, fire, accidentally growing a Kaiju in a petri dish. He was ready to hear it, he was prepared. 

“He was writing on your chalkboard.” 

“I’m sorry he _WHAT?!_ ” 

Hermann’s shout had been so loud several passing personnel turned to look at them. Mako took a step back and held up her hands as if she would have to fend him off. He gripped the cane so hard it started clattering against the floor. Mako glanced down at it in alarm. 

“I didn’t see much, I’m sure he wasn’t doing anything bad-” 

“That _little fu-_ ” 

“Hermann.” Mako interrupted him sharply, “Please refrain from murdering Doctor Geiszler in the Shatterdome.” 

“I won’t. I’m going to break his legs.” 

Once more amusement made Mako Mori’s mouth twitch against her will. Something about the sight made Hermann even angrier. If Newton had decided to mess with the calculations for a prank and it led to something going wrong again he was going to do something _really_ rash. 

Stomping past Mako he stormed down the corridor towards the lab, whatever parting shot she called after him falling on deaf ears. Something must have been showing in his face because several people practically leapt out of his way in the corridors and elevators. Bursting into the labs he saw Newton had his back to him, scribbling furiously on the board. 

“What,” Hermann ground out between gritted teeth, “do you think you are _doing?_ ” 

Newton gave a guilty start and whipped around to face him. He held his hands up, chalk still in his fingers. A brush of the dust had managed to get itself on the thick frames of his glasses, if Hermann were in a lighter mood, he would have thought it endearing. That said, he was in a furious mood, and therefore the sight was irritating beyond belief. 

“Hey Hermann!” He greeted, falsely jovial. Hermann narrowed his eyes. 

“What are you doing?” He demanded again. 

“Hey now, don’t panic dude, I’ve finished. I was just trying to-” 

“Newton I swear to God if you’ve messed with those…” 

“I _wasn’t!_ ” Newton yelped in protest, edging to the side a little as Hermann advanced. “Chill out man, your work is fine.” 

Hermann came to a stop directly in front the board, eyes rapidly scanning the numbers and codes for hidden profanities or crude images- 

Nothing. Nothing was different. The only sign that Newton had been there at all was a few equations at the bottom redone in a different hand. The fours and sevens were not Hermann’s, but Newton’s. 

Hermann frowned, looking to Newton for an explanation. The man cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“Uhhhh...okay listen. Tendo was in here goofing off a little earlier on. I was on my side of the lab but Tendo was looking at your numbers and stuff…. He tripped over some wire, didn’t know it was there see…it wasn’t until he left that I noticed he’d accidentally brushed his jacket against your board. Sorry dude, I was hoping you wouldn’t be back yet.” 

Hermann blinked, confused. The confusion blended into a small swirl of shame. He’d immediately assumed the worst of the man, thundering down here like that. Of course, past experiences with Newton and the board gave Hermann adequate grounds to be suspicious, but that didn’t stop the thought bubbling up. 

“You…were restoring my work.” He said, a little stupidly. Newton huffed a self-deprecating laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as his face as his face grew a little pink. 

“Probably should’ve just drawn a dick or something eh? Would have been more expected of me.”

Hermann inhaled sharply. Newton knew how Hermann would react, knew how low Hermann’s expectations supposedly were. Yet another disappointment. 

Another impulse to reach out and apologise seized him, to thank Newton for the surprising consideration. 

What instead came out of his mouth was: “Don’t be crude Newton. How did you even know what my calculations were?” 

Newton’s hand dropped from his neck and looked at Hermann with what looked like hurt. “Dude, I’m not _totally_ oblivious ya know. I do pay attention to the shit you work on.” 

“Um, my…my apologies.” Hermann stammered, at a loss and, strangely, a little touched. “I didn’t mean to offend, thank you.” 

Newton continued to look at him a tad sourly but nodded anyway. “You’re welcome.” 

“I just thought-” 

“Yeah,” Newton huffed, walking back over to his side of the lab, “I know what you thought.” 

Hermann couldn’t bring himself to snap back in defence, as he normally would. Nor did Newton make any snide comments as he went back to dig through whatever specimens he had arrayed on his desk. The awkward silence continued as they worked until Newton stretched his arms a few hours later, yawning widely. 

“Man, I’m beat. And starving. Beat and starving. Wanna call it a night?” 

Hermann blinked at his board and looked over at Newton, who was already slinging his jacket over his shoulders. He still had some calculations to go over before he could be truly satisfied with the day’s work. Turning back, he scanned the numbers for any errors he may have missed earlier before hearing Newton clear his throat behind him. The other man was looking over at him with his head cocked slightly to the side with an unreadable expression on his face. Hermann felt his face go warm and he shuffled, a little nervously. 

“I’m sorry, I was, er, ‘zoning out’ as you put it. Did you say something?” 

Newton rolled his eyes. “Jeez, what, all that chalk dust clogging up your ears Herm? I _said_ , I’m gonna hit up that new noodle joint down in the city, you coming?” 

Hermann had forgotten that Newton enjoyed leaving the Shatterdome on occasion and going into the civilian areas. Hermann hadn’t had a meal outside the mess hall in nearly two years, he doubted he could cope with larger crowds. 

“There’s rations in the canteen Newton. Besides, I need to finish these.”<

Hermann didn’t need to look at Newton to know exactly what the other man was doing behind his back; a ridiculously over-the-top eye roll whilst tilting his head back in a silent groan and slumping his shoulders as if Newton was convinced Hermann was put on the planet to inconvenience him. 

“Heeeeeeeerm!” He wheedled, somehow drawing out the stupid nickname about four syllables longer than it needed to be. Hermann turned to fully glare at him. 

“C’mon dude!” Newton continued, “I’ve seen that sorry-ass excuse for a risotto they’re serving tonight, it’s, like, super depressing. I wanna go eat something that uses actual _flavour_ in it, spices and shit!” 

“Well by all means, I’m not stopping you!” Hermann snapped, pointing to the door. In truth, sometimes the food the PPDC served really was blander than cardboard and, whilst Hermann knew nutritional value was of more importance than flavour, his taste buds were practically crying out for something that wasn’t low-sodium salt. 

Newt didn’t rise to the bait and leave, instead he just folded his arms. “I know you’re thinking the same man. Just admit you want some actual decent food for once…. wait, you’re not gonna shrivel up and die if you go out in daylight are you? Because that would be, like, _the_ coolest thing about you.” 

“Forgive me for not jumping at the chance to join a man who accuses me of vampirism. Besides, it’s past eight, there won’t be any daylight.” 

“Alright, but you didn’t deny either of those things.” 

“What things? You didn’t… I’m not a bloody _vampire_ Geiszler!” 

Newton grinned that wide and sunny smile that Hermann secretly found a little too dizzying to look at sometimes. It was a smile that frequently took any sting out of their fighting, soothing it into an almost enjoyable game. Points for Hermann for the well-timed retort. Points to Newton for running rings around Hermann with his words, and so on. 

“Nah, I know that. You don’t dress well enough to be a cool, dreaded Prince of the Night or whatnot…” 

“Excuse me-?!” 

“But you didn’t deny that you wanted some actual food.” 

Oh…oh _damn_ the man. Sometimes Hermann forgot just how clever Newton could really be, leading Hermann on a merry dance of bantering words only to turn back and catch him out. Despite the denial instantly springing to his lips Hermann felt his shoulders slump a little as Newton peered over the rim of his glasses knowingly. 

“Well, yes _alright_ , I cannot deny that perhaps I may miss things such as cinnamon or mustard on occasion. Or…perhaps a nice steak.” 

“Or a giant powdered doughnut…” Newt interjected dreamily. Hermann huffed a laugh. 

“Quite.” 

“Aw yeah, that’s the stuff…So, whaddya say? Shall we go out and paint the town red?” 

Hermann frowned again, nervously chewing the inside of his lip as he looked back at the board. “I can’t, I have work to do.” 

Now it was Newton’s turn to frown. “So do I. So does everybody, who cares?” 

“The Marshal will probably need us here.” 

“Oh my _God_ Gottlieb, are you gonna come with or not? Because I am getting those noodles and I don’t care if I have to get my ass dragged back here by a Jaeger.” 

Newton shook his head and sighed, walking out towards the door. Hermann continued to worry at his lip, watching Newton walk out. To leave the base would be ludicrous, reckless and irresponsible beyond belief. To stay would be to resign himself to another life of bland food, a quiet room, and wondering. 

Wondering about how it would have gone. Wondering if they could ever grow beyond what they were. 

Before Hermann could argue against his own incredibly stupid decision, his parka was already in his hand and he was catching up to the other man 

“Yes.” He said. 

Newton stopped so fast Hermann nearly collided into him. He turned back to Hermann with such blank shock on his face that Hermann’s brain instantly began to flood with doubt. God, had the question been rhetorical? Of course it had, there was no way Newton Geiszler had genuinely asked if Hermann wanted to go with him. It had been a cursory politeness, nothing more. The whole back and forth to try and convince him had just been Newton slipping back into their familiar territory of arguing for the sake of arguing. Hermann had been so _stupid-_

“Shit man, really?” Newton asked, his voice climbing a few octaves at the end from his sheer incredulity. Hermann felt his face flush even more and he shrugged. 

“I mean, of course, if you’ve changed your mind-” 

“No! No man I’d lov-I mean, it’s totally cool if you came. It’s not like I have many people to hang out with anyway right?” 

Hermann raised an eyebrow. Whilst he couldn’t entirely disagree with the statement, it would have been nice to feel a little less like a last resort. “Right.”

Newton smiled that sunny smile once more and bounded off. Hermann followed as fast as his leg would allow, praying that whatever was to come wouldn’t be a total disaster. 

__**_ _

“Herms. My buddy, my dude, my shining beacon of math nerdery, will you stop looking at it like it shredded your cardigan and _eat_ the damn thing already?” 

Hermann glanced up from his box of shrimp lo mein (shrimp! Who could even find shrimp on the market anymore?!) to glare at Newton, who was shovelling his own food into his mouth as fast as physically possible. It was as though the man feared the noodles would disappear if he wasn’t inhaling them. 

“I am eating it, just because I’m not being a complete caveman about it – unlike some people I will respectfully not name – doesn’t mean I’m not eating it.” 

“Well then don’t look so goddamn _grumpy_ about it!” 

“I’m not being ‘grumpy’!” 

Hermann was being honest, he really was enjoying the food. After years of the slop in the canteens and the rations, having something genuinely warm and flavourful almost made him cry. Half the ingredients in the dish had become distant memories in Hermann’s mind and his mouth had watered the instant he could smell them in the air. Newton had gone about it as he did with every other aspect in life, with maniacal enthusiasm and almost frenzied shouting. It was all Hermann could do not to follow suit, whooping with joy and scoffing everything he could afford. Instead he decided to savour every bit, damn if it went cold before he finished. Who could say when he would get the chance to eat something this rich again? Another attack could wipe this little noodle shop away, and that would be the end of that… 

Hermann?” Newton was saying, breaking through Hermann’s thoughts. Looking up Hermann saw the other man leaning forward from the opposite side of the table, a small, almost worried, frown on his face. “Is something wrong? We’re supposed to be enjoying this.” 

“I am!” Hermann replied hurriedly, raising his voice a little to be heard over the crowd around them. “Everything’s fine Newton. I’m just…taking my time, I suppose.” 

Newton looked a little relieved and sat back to return to his own food. The neon lights caused shadows to dance over his face. He looked completely in his element here, fitting into the crowd and seeming like he could pass as the rock star he so often claimed to be. Hermann found it could be a little much, with the press of people and the noise all clamouring around him, like a constricting pressure. He could only tune them out so much, and so took to stealing surreptitious glances at Newton every now and again, enjoying how the light played on his skin. At some point Newton started to raise his eyes and Hermann had to quickly pretend to be interested in a nearby poster for something he’d never heard of to avoid being caught staring. When he glanced around again Newton’s attention had been turned back to the noodles in front of him. 

When they had both finished it was getting well into the night and Newton yawned again. Hermann inclined his head towards the main road. 

“Shall we?” 

“Better had.” 

Hermann rose from his seat to go, grabbed his cane and stepped back. This turned out to be unfortunate, because just as he did so, a large man had been walking past and they bumped into each other. 

The man was intimidating. A flash of memory in the back of Hermann’s mind told him that this man had the same physique as the school bullies; heavy and more than willing to throw that weight around to get what they want. His head was shaved and there were several piercings decorating his ears and face. The smell of alcohol practically slammed into Hermann as the man swayed a little and turned around to glare at him angrily. 

“Watch where you’re fucking going!” 

“M-My apologies-” Hermann began, the words dying in his throat as the man took a threatening step towards him. 

“You should stay out the fucking way of people!” 

Hermann heard a placating “Hey man-” from Newt’s direction and gripped his cane a little tighter. Getting punched by this mountain of a man would not exactly be a great way to end the night. He squared his shoulders defensively. 

“I didn’t do it on purpose, I assure you.” He said, inwardly proud of himself for sounding like a reasonable adult. The man flared up and Hermann felt his heart sink. This man was looking for a fight, you could see it in his bleary, ill-meaning eyes. Out of the corner of his eyes, Hermann could see Newton tense and glance around them in apprehension. 

“Oh, got a smart mouth have you?” Their unwelcome new friend said, poking one meaty finger in Hermann’s direction, not touching him but certainly closer than Hermann would have liked. He took another step back out of self-preservation, his cane clicking against the concrete ground. 

“I merely meant-” 

“Shut the _fuck UP!_ ” The man roared, fleck of spittle flying from his mouth. His eyes landed on the cane Hermann held, then back up at Hermann. “I ain’t afraid of no smart-ass cripple.” 

Hermann inhaled sharply, his whole body going rigid in his anger. He glared at the man and opened his mouth the tell the stupid, idiotic little pig that he was in no way, shape or form _ashamed_ of his disability. That he was one of the leading minds in astrophysics and was working in K-Science to help preserve the man’s miserable little excuse of a life. That if this man decided to physically assault him, the PPDC would bear down on him so fast his grandchildren’s heads would be spinning. 

Newton got there first. 

With a movement that Newton would later describe as a ‘heroic vault’ and Hermann would describe as ‘wild scrambling’ the shorter man practically leapt into Hermann’s vision with a furious cry. The man, too focused on Hermann to notice Newton, was taken unawares and crashed into another bench before Newton tackled him to the floor. 

“Newt!” Hermann squeaked. 

Newton didn’t respond but pounced on the man again, raising an arm to punch him square in the face, which landed with a dull thudding sound. Growling, the man threw a punch of his own, too inebriated to do it properly though it didn’t stop Hermann from wincing as a fist collided with Newt’s jaw with enough force to send him reeling backwards, but thankfully not enough to knock him out. A crowd of spectators now began to gather around them, their mutterings and speculative galnces spurring Hermann into action. Newton let out another noise of fury and landed another punch, blood dribbling down his chin where his lip had split. Hermann hurried forward and grabbed his friend’s arm, pulling as hard as he could whilst bracing their weight against his good leg. 

“Newton! Newt! Get off him, stop!” 

Newton still didn’t answer him, didn’t even _look_ at him. With a grunt of exertion, the tattooed scientist kicked out with his legs, catching the downed man in the hip, who let out a small ‘oof!’ at the impact. A wicked red mark was forming on the man’s face and Hermann could see the admittedly impressive black eye that would form tomorrow morning. Newton continued to try pulling away from Hermann to launch himself at the guy again. Hermann shook his arm desperately. 

“It’s not worth it Newton! He’s drunk… Newt! Look at me!” 

Newton did so. Whipping his head around he paused in his struggling, his eyes wide and mouth set in a grim line that didn’t look like it belonged on his face. There was a long second of them just staring at each other, panting hard. A groan of pain from where the other man lay seemed to startle Newton. With another glance at Hermann he wrenched his arm free before striding back to stare at the man, who was looking up at him in stupid, winded confusion. 

“Get out.” Newton said lowly, with more venom dripping out of every syllable than Hermann had thought he was ever capable of. His fists were clenched so tightly at his sides that, even from where Hermann stood, he could see them shaking. “I said: Get. The fuck. _Out._ ” 

A horrible silence seemed to descend upon the entire vicinity as the man blinked up at Newton, then at Hermann. Hermann, for his part, lifted his cane threateningly. The fight seemed to leak out of him with every breath and, miraculously, he did as Newton told him. Scrambling back to his feet and with a glare of wounded pride, the man melted back into the crowd, holding a hand to his nose. 

The spectacle over, the crowd broke apart. Everybody going back to their own business, the matter more or less dismissed. Hermann’s lungs emptied themselves in one big rush before he stalked over to Newton, checking him over for any hidden injuries. 

“Of all the _bloody reckless_ things to do! Newton Geiszler what the hell was that all about? What were you _thinking?!_ ” 

Newton turned back to him, shaking even harder than before. He was blinking hard enough for Hermann to start to worry if he’d gotten concussion from that punch after all. It seemed to take him a few attempts to speak, his voice trembling with rage when he did so: 

“Hermann, there are, like, a thousand and one ways to insult you. Hell, I invented most of them…. but that-” he broke off, pointing a finger in the general direction of where the man had gone, “Not _that._ Scumbags like him don’t get to say shit like that. Never _that_! Not to you!” 

Hermann was at a complete, total loss, not for the first time. He rarely reacted so strongly to insults regarding his cane, let alone have others do it on his behalf. Perhaps he should have been angry for Newton taking matters into his own hands but if he was being honest, all he really felt was gratitude and no small amount of affection. For the few moments they’d stared at each other, Newton Geiszler had been the most beautiful thing Hermann had ever seen. 

A mere ‘thank you’ seemed so, well, _trivial_. 

“I…you could have been hurt Newt.” 

Newton shrugged, visibly pulling himself back together. More or less. “That’s not the point Herm. It’s the… the morals of the thing. I…I-I just saw red I guess.” 

The shaking in his hands had mostly abated as he brought a hand to his jaw, hissing a little as he probed the rapidly darkening bruise. Hermann felt a little useless, watching Newton as he fished around his jacket pocket for a clean handkerchief and bringing it to his split lip to staunch the small trickle of blood. 

“I’m not some maiden you need to defend.” He said, more from a need to fill the silence than any real complaint. To his surprise, Newton laughed.

“Yeah no kidding. I saw the look in your eye, you know, that one you get before verbally decimate somebody? If anything, that creep should thank me for distracting him before you completely went to town on him.” 

Hermann couldn’t help but smirk a little. “I suppose he should.” 

Newton continued to dab at his mouth for a minute or so before darting a glance a Hermann, a little shyly. “You called me Newt.” 

“What?” 

Newton shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a pink tinge clouding his cheeks. “Just now… I, um, I mean…” 

“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry-” Herman began, drawing away before Newton’s hand shot out and closed gently around his wrist. 

“No! No, I just meant. Can…can you keep calling me that? I know I’ve asked you before, but you never do. I …I prefer it.” 

Glancing at the hand wrapped around his wrist, Hermann brought up his own to pat it tentatively. His hand was warm, radiating through the bones in his wrist. Newton looked up at him so earnestly it almost hurt. 

“Of course. Newt.” 

Newton _no, Newt_ beamed at him, releasing his hold and nodding in satisfaction. 

_Say something_ a voice in Hermann’s mind supplied helpfully. _Don’t just stand there like an idiot, he’ll think what he did means nothing. Take a chance for ONCE in your goddamn life Hermann…_

“C’mon,” is what he said eventually, “Let’s go home.” 

___ _

___**_ _ _

It was late when they got back to the base, many people having gone back to their quarters. Newt and Hermann made their way down the corridors shoulder to shoulder in silence. As they got nearer to their quarters Hermann was about to say goodbye for the night when Tendo Choi waltzed around the corner. 

“Holy shit!” he cried once he’d clapped eyes on Newt’s bruised jaw, “what happened to _you?_ ” 

“You should see the other guy.” Newt quipped. 

Tendo glanced at Hermann, amusement and concern warring for control of his features. “Did you finally snap and beat the shit out of him like you always promised?” 

Hermann opened his mouth to huff out an offended reply but was interrupted by Newt waving a hand and grinning. 

“Nah dude, I took on a dude who was, like, five times my size! I’m a Rockstar, baby!” 

“He was _hardly_ five times your size Newt.” Hermann interjected, one side of his mouth curling up in a smirk. “He was... twice your size.” 

Tendo whistled lowly, one eyebrow raised in a way that screamed that he didn’t totally believe either of them. “Badass. What the guy do? Mispronounce ‘Godzilla’?” 

Hermann glanced at Newt, who was frowning again. He wasn’t sure he wanted anybody else to know what the man had said about him. It might move people to pity and he wouldn’t stand for that. Dislike and indifference? Yes, he could handle that, but pity? Never pity. 

“We were arguing and he crossed a line.” Newt supplied promptly. “That’s all.” 

Tendo peered at them curiously for a few moments, gaze flittering between both of them. Hermann tried his best to look innocent of all shenanigans and he didn’t have to look at Newt to know the shorter man was doing the same. 

“Alright.” Tendo said eventually, in a tone that made it thoroughly clear he wasn’t convinced in the slightest, jerking his chin towards Hermann. “Wanna get him to Medical? Concussion can be a bitch.” 

“I don’t need Medical to tell me I’ve been socked in the jaw dude.” Newt scoffed before Hermann could reply. “I can feel it just fine.” 

To illustrate the point Newt brought his hand up to his jaw, wincing a little when his fingers brushed the bruised edge. He wiggled his chin side to side experimentally, then smiled at Tendo. 

“See? Nothin’ broken.” 

Tendo flashed Hermann a familiar ‘Our colleague is an idiot’ look and shrugged one shoulder casually. “Fine, it’s your head dude. I’m heading off, try not to get into any more trouble if you can help it.” 

“Scout’s honour!” Newt trilled, holding up his hand in mock salute. 

“Goodnight Mr Choi.” Hermann nodded. 

Tendo waved over his shoulder at them absentmindedly before walking back the way they came. Once he’d rounded the corner, Newt sighed dramatically. 

“Feels like I just got caught sneaking out by our parents.” 

He winced again at the movement. Hermann frowned. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to head to Medical?” 

Newt shot him a look that suggested he thought Hermann had lost his mind. When they’d first met Hermann had found that look infuriating and more than a little insulting. Now; after years of bickering, fond exasperation and hidden admiration, Hermann found it, embarrassingly, _endearing_. 

“Let me have my battle scars Herms, it’s very punk.” 

Hermann raised an eyebrow, struggling to keep in a smile. “I’m sure.” 

Newt smiled up at him again in a giddy sort of way that had a small part of Hermann’s brain wonder whether he should drag Newt to Medical to check for concussion regardless of then man’s insistence otherwise. His eyes fell on Newt’s bruised jaw and split lip, feeling a surge of protectiveness that surprised even him. He wanted to take Newt’s hand and just bundle him away, away from war and Kaiju and drunken men who never outgrew their schoolyard antics. Perhaps it was this wave of selfishness that caused Hermann’s mouth to do what it did next, because it was the only explanation he could think of after: 

“Do you want some tea? At my quarters?” 

It was hard to say who seemed more shocked, Hermann or Newt. Hermann felt his face go undeniably hot and knew he must look positively crimson. For his part, Newt rapidly blinked a few times and gaped. 

“What?” Newt squeaked. 

“Um.” Hermann replied cleverly. 

They stared at each other in mutual mortification. Newt’s face did some strange for of muscle gymnastics, as though he was unsure of what expression he should go for. Seeing Newt flit between confusion and amusement caused Hermann to launch into a rapid-fire speech, hoping the earth would open up and swallow him whole with each passing second. 

“You don’t have to! I just meant… I mean, um, you _did_ get yourself punched because of me, a cup of tea is the least I can do. Of course, if you’d rather be by yourself then that is completely fine. That’s probably better actually! It’s late and we should be getting rest, lots of work to do an all that. Forget I said anything, it doesn’t matter-” 

“Dude, breathe-!” 

“I mean it Newt, I don’t know what came over me, I’m sorry. I just thought…never mind.” 

He knew he was rambling, which embarrassed him further because he was Hermann Gottlieb and he did not _ramble_ for God’s sake. But here he was, rambling in front of Newton Geiszler, because of Newton Geiszler. Bloody typical. 

Said Newton Geiszler now seemed thoroughly alarmed by whatever nonsense was spilling out of Hermann’s mouth and cut Hermann off by gripping Hermann’s upper arms and squeezing them gently. 

“A cup of tea sounds great Hermann.” 

“I…um.” Hermann said again, his voice trailing off as he took in what Newt had actually been saying to him. “What? Are you sure?” 

Now it was Newt’s turn to stammer. “Unless, uh, don’t actually want me to-” 

“No! I, I meant it.” 

“Oh…” Newt said, sounding a little stunned. “Oh good.” 

He let Hermann go and stood back a little, rubbing the back of his neck. Hermann cleared his throat, shuffling his feet a little in a feeble attempt to regain some composure. 

“Er, shall we?” He asked eventually, gesturing the way to go with his arm. Newt smiled. 

“Sure.” 

___**_ _ _

They barely spoke to each other as they made their way back to Hermann’s room. As he fumbled with the keycard Hermann felt a prickle of alarm and a little apprehension. He and Newt had never gone into each other’s quarters before, and he vaguely wondered whether they would be in an acceptable condition to receive visitors. He chased the thought away with a firm _For Chist’s sake Hermann you are not a twelve-year-old any more_ and decided that if Newt didn’t like the way he decorated his space, then that was Newt’s problem. The man probably slept with a stuffed Kaiju toy anyway so bollocks to what he thought of Hermann’s things. 

As he fiddled with the kettle he heard Newt go over to his bookshelf. It was a miserable little library, Hermann having lost most of his books during the initial Kaiju attacks and subsequent worldwide panic that had followed. As the world had started to crash down around their ears, his collection of novels and poetry had seemed rather unimportant. He’d managed to keep a handful or so, along with his more useful scientific tomes. Sometimes he wished he’d fought a little harder to keep them. He missed reading for the sake of reading. 

“Dude!” Newt’s voice cut through his musings. “You have a copy of _’Salem’s Lot_! I didn’t think you knew who King was. I mean, the physics journals and stuff totally doesn’t surprise me, but the fact you own horror fiction is kinda wigging me out right now.” 

He held up the offending book with it’s yellowed pages and torn cover with a smirk. “You sure you ain’t a vampire?!” 

“Didn’t you know it’s written about me?” Hermann shot back dryly, not even bothering to look up from the tea bags he was stirring. Newt snorted. 

“Man, I used to love Stephen King. I think I read _It_ about six times when I was at college.” 

Hermann glanced up. “Of course you did, it’s a giant monster from another dimension.” 

“Harsh.” 

Hermann hummed and held out a mug of tea for Newt and gestured for him to sit down. Newt took one end of the sofa whilst Hermann took the other, sighing as he rested his cane on the side and held the mug between his hands. His hip gave its usual grumble and he remembered the man from earlier. He took a sip of his tea, Newt doing the same out of the corner of his eye. 

“I’m not ashamed of it, you know.” He said, apropos of nothing. Newt startled beside him. 

“What?” 

“My leg.” Hermann explained, steadfastly not looking at Newt. “I wasn’t born with it, but I’m not ashamed.” 

“Hermann you don’t have to explain,” Newt said hastily “you don’t have to tell me.” 

Hermann glanced at him. The other man was looking at him with such earnest that he nearly stopped what he was going to say in its tracks yet felt the story bubble up anyway. Not because he owed Newt anything, he owed people nothing when it came to what happened to him. But, after everything, he found he _wanted_ to. 

“It was an accident. There was an explosion at the university I was studying at, something had gone wrong with the plumbing.” 

“Yeah, I remember reading that happening somewhere…” Newt mused softly, eyes going wide when he realised what it meant “Oh _shit_ Hermann…” 

“I got pinned under a beam that had come loose from the ceiling. The doctor’s told me that I could have recovered much better had they found me in time.” 

It all sounded so cold, so _clinical_. Hermann described it as if it had happened to someone else, like it had never come near him, which was simply not true. However, Hermann had never had a way with words. How could he find the words to describe the initial wave of sound and crushing force? How could he describe the way he had lain in the dust and darkness, mute from pain and left with nothing but the choking fear that he’d die there? That nobody had come to help him, nobody was _ever/em > going to find him there, pinned like an insect between the blood and broken pipes? _

__

“Permanent nerve damage to my leg and pelvis.” He said instead, watching Newt’s reaction. The other man’s face had spasmed in horror and sympathy, but his gaze had remained steady on Hermann’s. No pity. Never pity. 

__

“All the more reason that guy deserved his ass kicked.” Newt said primly, taking another sip of tea. 

__

The bluntness of the statement caused Hermann to laugh, despite the seriousness of the conversation. “I know that Newt, I just meant…well, I wanted to thank you, but I’m not ashamed of my injuries.” 

__

“Hermann,” Newt interrupted, shifting his position to turn around and face Hermann properly, one leg tucked underneath him. “Hermann, you’re a smart dude, second-smartest dude in all the world no less! You’re also a brave man, whether you believe me or not, you are. I’ve gone toe to toe with you for _years_ , so I know you’re hardly some wilting flower in need of defending. Why should you be ashamed of surviving something?” 

__

“But,” Hermann frowned, “why did you? Defend me?” 

__

Newt went pink around the cheeks. “I would have done it if he’d touched you, I was planning to deck the guy the second he started shooting his mouth off at you. I know you don’t _need_ somebody to defend you from dickheads like that, b-but I wanted to.” 

__

“I’d have thought you would have jumped at the chance to see me getting beaten up.” 

__

“Well don’t think that!” Newt said sharply, glaring at him. “Listen, _I_ can insult you until the cows come home dude, but nobody else is allowed. Them’s the rules.” 

__

“Bit presumptuous of you.” Hermann scoffed, feeling his whole being go warm. Newt rolled his eyes. 

__

“Do you mind not arguing with me whilst I’m baring my soul and confessing to you dude? Thanks.” 

__

Hermann blinked, thinking he must have misheard Newt somehow. “I’m sorry, what?” 

__

“God you’re making this difficult.” Newt muttered, pushing his glasses back up his nose distractedly before putting his mug down. “I…I think you’re great Hermann, your stuffy tendencies aside. Going out for food tonight? It was…it was pretty fucking great until that asshole decided to ruin everything. It was hard enough to get you to come with me and I don’t want the way it turned out to put you off going out the Shatterdome again. Um, I mean, if you wanted to go again that is.” 

__

Hermann’s brain, which had stuttered to a halt when Newt said the words _‘I think you’re great’_ kicked back into action. 

__

“Newt, was…was tonight a…was it a date?” 

__

Newt made a little squawk of frustrated embarrassment and buried his face in his hands, the tips of his ears going red. Hermann quickly deposited his mug of half finished tea onto the floor next to him and scooted a little closer to hear Newt’s muffled response: 

__

“Oh my _GOD_ you didn’t realise?! I fucked that right up! I’m so fucking stupid I’m so sorry-” 

__

“Newton.” Hermann said, gently tugging Newt’s hands away from his face. Newt’s eyes darted everywhere around the room except for him, resting on the assortment of books and posters for half a seconds before flickering to the ceiling or the floor. His hands were clenched into fists within Hermann’s grip as he sighed. 

__

“I should have realised you didn’t… that you didn’t know what tonight was. I’ve been trying to ask you to dinner for _ages_ but you never said yes… this is all Mako’s fault.” 

__

“Wait, Miss Mori?” 

__

“Yeah.” Newt huffed, still not looking at him. “She said I was going about it all wrong and that I had to be subtler about it…” He laughed, only a little bitterly, “guess I pulled it off a little too well huh?” 

__

Hermann couldn’t help but smile a little despite his mind reeling from the fact that Newt had in a weird, roundabout way, asked him out on a _date_ and Hermann hadn’t even realised. “Newton-” 

__

“Would you have come?” Newt asked suddenly, finally looking at Hermann where he was sat next to him on the sofa. “If you knew what I’d really been asking?” 

__

“Of course.” Hermann replied honestly, without hesitation. He knew, had always known, he’d probably go wherever Newt wished him to go, if Newt asked. “Of course I would.” 

__

Newt looked at him with a slight frown, evidently not quite believing what he was hearing. He seemed tense and on the verge of jumping up, as if Hermann was going to shout ‘surprise!’ and reveal everything to be a lie. When Hermann didn’t, he visibly relaxed a little but remained red in the face. 

__

“Good,” he said eventually, voice strained. He cleared his throat and repeated himself. “That’s good.” 

__

He smiled slightly, leaving Hermann feeling vaguely out of breath. His hands seemed to act of their own accord, his thumb brushed softly across Newt’s hands, who exhaled sharply through his nose in response. 

__

“I wouldn’t be opposed…” Hermann began, pausing to find the words. He didn’t want to choose the wrong words and make everything go wrong. He couldn’t be the disappointment again. “If you wanted to maybe try again, without some Neanderthal shooting his mouth off, as you say… maybe we could-” 

__

“Could what?” Newt prompted, sounding a tad dazed. Hermann wasn’t sure when either of them had leaned forward, but there were only scant inches from each other. In the dim light of his quarters, Newton’s eyes looked darker somehow. 

__

“We bicker, we fight, I suspect we’ll keep on doing that. But, maybe we can be, I suppose, _more_. Maybe we can grow beyond what we are.” 

__

Newt blinked. “Holy shit dude.” 

__

Hermann laughed. “Holy shit Newt.” 

__

There was no big fanfare, no dramatic surge of light or music, just Hermann closing the gap between them to place his lips on Newt’s. There was a heartbeat of stillness in which Hermann poured every hope and agony. Newt ripped his hands from where they were wrapped in Hermann’s and brought them up to the sides of Hermann’s face to crush them even closer together, heedless of his injured jaw. Drawing away a little Hermann hummed a little in amusement at Newt’s attempts to hold him there. Closing his eyes Hermann realigned himself to kiss Newt more deeply. Newt let out an appreciative little hum and his hands on Hermann’s face were less intense, but still firm. Hermann was glad, without those hands, he felt he could have floated away. 

__

When they parted Hermann smiled. Newt smiled back, lowering one hand slowly so his fingers trailed down Hermann’s jaw. 

__

And pinched himself very hard in the thigh. “Ow.” 

__

“What the _hell_?!” 

__

“Sorry dude, sorry!” Newt giggled, covering his mouth with his other hand. “It’s just, this feels so mind-fuckingly good I kinda had to check.” He glanced back up at Hermann, a little sheepishly, and his tongue darted out a little over the split in his lip and grinned as wide and as sunny as a summers day. “You taste like tea.” 

__

Hermann laughed and pulled him closer to kiss him again. 

__

**Author's Note:**

> *wiggles eyebrows* Did they bang on the sofa? Very likely. 
> 
> I originally gave Hermann a more dramatic backstory involving a Kaiju crashing through a building and losing his family but I couldn't make it fit in the timeline so we have the far more mundane 'boiler explosion'. Have you seen footage of a boiler explosion? They're pretty damn deadly. 
> 
> I maaaaaaay do the original fic I'd planned, let me know if you'd be interested :D 
> 
> (my tumblr is @redrose-comes-a-marching if you wanna swing by!)


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